


It's All Bread to Me

by DustToDust



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Bread, Don’t copy to another site, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2020-10-12 21:00:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20570798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DustToDust/pseuds/DustToDust
Summary: They vary in so many ways and each of the Nein have their own unique set of experiences to draw on. [Drabble series]





	1. It's All Bread to Me

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know, I may change this to a drabble collection if I start writing more. I had to change the title seconds after posting this because I thought of a better one.

There’s a danger to using polymorph spells. Well, not dangerous _danger_, more like a downside. A tiny one, or maybe a large one. A side effect at most. It all depended on the way the spell is used really. Which is the case for most spells if one were to sit down to think about it, and what was Caleb’s life if not a long sit down to think about things?

It was not a revelation to Caleb when he first experienced the side effects of the spell. It’d been a theoretical bit of knowledge he remembered from the academy. The base of many whispered rumors and the absolutely ludicrous lies they later became. The bread and butter of young academics juggling stressful study loads and the unrelenting apathy of the professors who only gave them more. Something he’d listened to, but had not given much weight until it was mentioned in passing during a lecture on applications of transmutation. A tiny scrap of knowledge that served Caleb well years later. 

He’d been prepared for it when he found himself stumbling hours after he polymorphed into a spider. His body wanting to move more limbs than he had to compensate for a center of gravity that felt off to him. It resolved as an attack of vertigo that would have been dangerous if they weren’t stopped for the night and gathering in his hut. Any lingering trace of it was gone before Caleb’s head even touched his bedroll that night. And that’s the way it’s been with all of the times he’s experienced the side effects. They don’t always happen, but when they do it’s only well after any danger or difficulty has ended.

It’s a thing he notes with interest when he notices Jester tiredly stomping around their campsite after her stint as a woolly mammoth. The gait is distinctive and markedly different from the way she might stomp when tired or angry. Caleb hides a grin in his scarf when she jerks her head back in a way that only makes sense if one were to imagine her with a massive trunk. It’s amusing and unexpectedly warming to recognize the signs of it in one of his friends.

A secret, almost, that Jester shares in when he catches her giggling into her hands at the Kiln after Caleb finds he’s trying to lift himself from a seated position with arms that are not the wings he thinks they should be. He smiles wryly before pulling his arms back in and then --in a fit of mischief that’s becoming more common-- he purses his lips together and makes a fairly convincing trumpeting sound that sends Jester into full on laughter. A secret, maybe, and most certainly a joke that neither of them bothers to explain even as Beau testily demands to know what’s so funny about it all.

Days later it’s no surprise when Caleb finds Jester in Reani’s kitchen long after the others have gone to sleep, and there’s already a second chair pulled out that he’s sure is just for him. Caleb takes it with a grin but no words as they both endure the side effects of their time as bats. An interesting hour to be sure, but one he’s rather happy to find left him with such a relatively minor urge. It’s comfortable to sit across from Jester and wordlessly indulge with someone who doesn’t need an explanation.

Which means it's not ten minutes later before Caleb realizes they’re no longer alone. 

Fjord stands in the doorway and Caleb’s not sure the man is even fully awake. There’s sleep lines from a pillow pressed into his right cheek and the white tuft of hair sticks out at an unruly angle as he blinks blearily at them. Squinting against the soft light globes Caleb had cast earlier. His eyes go wide and a strange expression flits across his face when he finally seems to focus in on the table. More specifically the eight loaves of bread spread between them that they’ve scavenged out of Reani’s cupboards. 

Well, what remains of them. Caleb and Jester have done a fairly good job reducing it all to chunks and crumbs.

“I like bread!” Jester says brightly before he can even open his mouth to ask the question they can both see brewing. She tears off another piece of bread to chew with small noises of enjoyment and doesn't give Fjord anything else.

“I like bread,” Caleb agrees and nudges one of the larger chunks left closer to the man. It’s a piece he had torn off to get to the soft center of the loaf he’d first grabbed, but Fjord seems to have a liking for crusty breads and shouldn’t mind it. “Bread is good. You should have some.”

Fjord stares a little longer, eyes tracking them both warily. “No, that’s fine. You two-” Fjord sighs softly and scrubs a hand over his eyes as he turns around back into the darkened room everyone else is sleeping in. “Just clean up when you are done, alright?”

There may or may not be questions later when Fjord has slept enough to regain some clarity, but Caleb doesn't think it matters much as he stuffs his face with the bread that'd been turned down. When it comes to magically induced side effects a little craving for a particular food is a mild price to pay.


	2. Just Enough Rope

The damning fact of the whole matter is that Trent _waited_. He waited for them to go to him with their false memories, waited for them to spill it all out, and waited for them to suggest what to do about it all first.

Caleb remembers the memory being implanted now. The words Trent wove into them all. It was a simple enough scene, a short trip that had seemed so very real to take the place of the previous week of relaxation Trent had insisted they all have. Light on the details of how they got home and how their parents greeted them, but heavy on the treasonous talks each of them overheard. At no point did he weave their own feelings into the memory, and he certainly did not give them any orders to follow regarding what to do about their false memories.

No, he’d already trained the three of them in the correct responses. The false memories were just his way of testing them. To see if they’d learned his lessons well enough, and they did not disappoint.

It’d been Bren who first floated the idea out to Eodwulf and Astrid. All of them numb with shock and horror at what they’d fully believed to be true. In the silence they’d been left in after confessing to Trent, Brent had said steadily and with conviction, “There’s only one fate for traitors.”

Neither of them had protested. Eodwulf had looked relieved to not have to say it, and something sparked back to life in Astrid’s eyes. It was her plan in the end that they all followed. A plan they discussed and tweaked for a month before putting into motion. Not out of reluctance, but out of the sense that they needed a perfect plan --in both execution and cruelty-- to _prove_ none of them were in league with their traitorous families. To make up for their seditious acts.

Only when it was perfect did they bring it to Trent. Laid it all out for his eyes and _begged_ for the opportunity to prove their loyalty. A chance that he gave them after a long moment of thought designed to make them squirm before declaring total trust in them. He gave leave for them to do as they saw fit, but made no demands of them.

No, he left it all up to them, and that is why Caleb will never be able to forgive himself.


	3. Buttons Owed

Fjord owes Nott. He owes her a lot. More than she will ever ask to collect from him because she’s a generous person, and there’s some things that simply don’t count when it’s between two friends. (It does count, but friends don’t _say_ it does out loud. That’s how friendships work.) But even with all that taken out of the equation, Fjord seriously _owes_ her and she intends to collect.

Time spent in the Xhorhaus has been pretty rare lately. Almost as rare as time in Nicodranas. (Though that might be for the best given the state of the war.) What little time they’ve had in Rosohna though, Nott has noticed, Fjord can be counted on being in one of three places. Up in the garden with Caduceus meditating on plants or something, in his room passed out, or in the training room with Beau on his way to passing out.

Predictable patterns are lovely little things. It gives her a limited number of spaces and actions to plan for. Routes in and out, and even potential ambushes if it were to ever come to that. (It hasn’t but Nott’s ever hopeful, she has a pretty little vial of smoky blue stuff she wants to test out.)

Today, Nott tracks Fjord down to his room in the middle of the day. The half-orc isn’t a morning man at all, and after a few hours of being beat on by Beau he can be counted on to be dead to the world until after lunch. Nott doesn’t take any chances though.

She presses her ear against the door to listen and glances down the hall as well for anyone who might be sneaking up on her. There’s no voices or creaking of steps so she cautiously turns the knob on the door to open it. Slowly easing the door open just enough so she can slip in and quietly shut the door behind her. 

Fjord is face first in his bed. Boots kicked off and shirt discarded on the floor as he rasps into his pillow. Nott keeps one eye on the man and another on her goal as she eases forward. Careful to skirt around the one board that is lighter in color than the rest of the floor. It’s new and creaks something awful when stepped on. (Nott knows because Fjord steps on it a dozen times each morning. She’s not sure how Jester and Beau can stand it.)

It takes little time to reach the wrinkled shirt on the floor, and Nott flips it over with the tip of a dagger. It’s sweaty and still wet but the buttons on it are untouched by any Fjord juice. (Sweat or blood because there’s a few brownish stains around the collar that means Beau got some good jabs in.) They’re not all that pretty looking or shiny. Fjord favors dull things so his buttons are an off white color with no patterns to them. Bone or stone, Nott can’t tell just yet.

She slices one off to examine. (The bottom one, because if it's the top one he won't bother replacing it.) It's cool to the touch and has an unexpected shine when she holds it close. It reminds her of the shells she found with Luc and Yeza on the beach. Not as pretty as the one in her lab, of course, but it will do.

Nott slides the button into a pouch and leaves the room quicker than she entered. Her button collection one more --rather boring-- button larger, but still short the whole chest she was promised out on the sea. 

That's alright though. The Nein are staying together and she's got a lot of time to collect that chest of buttons from Fjord. One at a time. (And only one at a time because she's a considerate enough friend not to take them all at once.)


	4. Hypno-Allergenic

There’s a cat on the table when Fjord makes it to the dining room for dinner. Nothing particularly uncommon except for the fact that it’s not Frumpkin lazing idly under Beau’s scritching fingers. Caleb’s changed Frumpkin into other animals often enough, but he’s never seen him turn the familiar into a different kind of cat.

It’s a monster of a cat with gray and white fur thick enough to cover Beau’s hand up to the wrist. If it sprawls out any further it’ll probably easily take up half of the table. The contented purr coming from it is loud and a little jarring.

Fjord eases into the seat furthest from the cat. "I thought we all agreed to not get any more pets."

"_You_ agreed," Beau rebuts immediately, not looking away from the way the cat’s ears twitch at the sound of their voices. "Besides, this is just Caleb."

The cat’s eyes open to reveal a familiar ring of blue around the slit pupils of the cat’s eyes. It --Caleb-- yawns, showing off some impressively sharp teeth before levering himself up in a slow stretch. Standing on all four paws he looks larger as he winds over to Fjord despite Beau’s disappointed noises.

"You look like a predator," Fjord tells the grumpy looking face when it gets too close. His nose starts to itch and eyes water as he leans back instinctively. This close, Fjord can practically _feel_ the vibration of the purr in his chest. "Definitely a cat though."

"Mrrrr," Caleb makes a strangely chirpy sound before butting his head right into Fjord’s face. Immediately doubling the irritation of his eyes and nose.

"Caleb- ah!" Fjord fights to hold the sneeze back and blindly pats his friend turned cat before lurching out of the chair to put distance between them. He barely makes it to the door before being taken by a violent sneezing fit that lasts all the way to his room where he can rip off his shirt with it’s fine layer of cat fur.

Caleb the human is back when Fjord makes his way back, and murmurs an apology under the debate --one insult off from being an argument-- of which city has the best pastries. Fjord shrugs it off with a grin and does his best not to sneeze again as they eat.

It’s a week later before Caleb polymorphs into a cat again. This time he sees it happening --it will never not be fascinating to watch as magic twists the familiar shape into something new-- and has time to study the way Caleb sways before finding his balance on four paws.

"Oh my gosh!" Jester all but vibrates across the Fun Room with a squeal that’s half-horrified and all utter delight. "You look so evil, Cay-leb!"

It’s an apt description. If his last form had been a beast, this one is purely demonic. Fjord has never really wondered what a cat would look like without fur before and he kind of wishes he didn’t know the answer to it. With no fur at all, Caleb has an excess amount of skin that pools around his limbs and gives him a wrinkled, emaciated look that’s eerie. Caleb looks up at Jester with an unimpressed look as he finds his balance. Put a pair of wings on him and Fjord’s sure he can pass as a particularly ill-tempered imp.

"It looks like you have a rat’s tail," Fjord says as Jester scoops Caleb up. The tail dangles over her arm. Thin, hairless, and more than a little disturbing as it curls slightly when she rubs under his chin.

"He does!" Jester has settled firmly on pure delight as she cranes her neck to look for a brief second before something seems to occur to her. "Wait! Fjord do you think you could pet Caleb now? He doesn't have any fur to make you sneeze, I'll bet you could!"

"Absolutely not," the answer comes without thought and he's already backing up on instinct. Which would be more useful if he wasn't already in the corner. A poor choice going by the glint in the tiefling's eyes. "Jester, no, don't even think ab-"

Fjord's mistake lies in putting all his attention on Jester and forgetting about Caleb who has a surprising knack for being a little shit at the strangest times. Most of which seem to coincide with him spending more time with Jester than usual.

Jester gasps --fake as hell-- as Caleb jumps out of her arms with the fluid grace all cats seem to have. His front paws latching onto Fjord’s upraised arms. Wickedly sharp claws dig into the leather straps holding his bracers on. An awkward weight that Fjord has no choice but to cradle to his chest especially as Caleb’s back legs claw dangerously close to Fjord’s unprotected stomach. 

"Fuck," Fjord says as he screws his nose up in preparation. Bracing himself for the sneezing fit of his life as Caleb meows plaintively.

Except it never comes. Even when Caleb butts up against Fjord’s face and starts to purr. There's nothing, not even the hint of a tickle in his nose. 

"I knew it would work!" Jester cheers and does a little spin that distracts Fjord long enough for Caleb to nestle in under his chin. Furless face rubbing against Fjord’s chin in an affectionate display that is probably his own version of celebration. "We could never have cats when I was a girl because some of Momma's clients might be allergic and that always made me so sad, but Bluud always talked about this one cat. It’s, like, called a sphinx cat even though it's not a real sphinx which is weird. But it doesn't have any hair and that's supposed to make it hypno-allergenic or something. So I-"

Jester jabbers on cheerfully and Fjord pays attention to what she’s saying. He really does. He's just also paying attention to the small bundle of purring warmth he's holding. Letting himself rub under Caleb’s chin the way he's seen the wizard do with Frumpkin. It's oddly relaxing and he thinks he can understand why so many of the group seem to like sitting with the familiar.

Just a little bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First cat was a Maine coon, second was a sphynx. Fun fact, the sphynx Caleb turned into isn't actually hypoallergenic. He figured out how to turn off the sneeze factor in himself and Frumpkin long ago. It’s mostly just been conditioning on Fjord’s part that's kept him sneezing. The lack of tickling fur put him off just enough this time to realize it.


	5. Wild Magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't know, just wanted to see chubby Fjord.

Fjord was a chubby child. Not obese or fat, but round and soft. He had full cheeks (that Jester had to be restrained from pinching because, “He’s so cute!”) soft padding around his arms and legs ("Baby fat,” Nott had explained sagely, “keeps ‘em from getting too cold in winter.”) and a round stomach ("Eh, he's well fed at least?" Beau offered after a few pokes). All things considered, it’s a rather jarring contrast from the lean and angular form he has as an adult.

It’s an odd thing to get caught up on, given the mysterious nature of the spell used to regress Fjord, but it throws Caleb every time he catches sight of the boy. Which is, surprisingly, a lot.

“Nein, ah, I mean no. I have not seen Fjord since this morning Jester,” Caleb watches a pout flash across Jester’s face and bites back a smile as she fidgety in the library door. She’s doing a poor job of hiding something blue and ruffled behind her back.

“Ok, well let me know if you see him alright? I’ve got a present for him that’ll look really, really cute on him,” Jester huffs out as she backs into the hall. “Oh! And tell him that Caduceus made more of those biscuits he likes!”

She says the last part loudly and looks around for any movement. What she gets is a raised eyebrow from Caleb and a disinterested yawn from Frumpkin. 

"Maybe he's on the roof again?" Jester muses aloud before smiling and whirling away. "OK, thanks Caleb!"

Caleb gets a glimpse of blue and white stripes drowned in ruffles before the door. Shuts with an almost silent click. He waits a moment but doesn’t hear the telltale sound of returning feet. 

"I don't think she was lying about the biscuits," Caleb says to the book he's been trying to read this past hour. The smell of bread baking had inundated the Xorhaus and the fresh wave that came when Jester opened the door had made the pangs of his own stomach hard to ignore. "I could go with you to get some."

The room remains silent for one long second before a green face peers warily out from under the lab table. Fjord emerges from the tangle of alchemy supplies with a ginger care that Caleb’s more used to seeing on their other green friend. 

"Or, you could bring them here," Fjord counter offers. Listing slightly around the tusks that are too large for his childish face, and utterly missing the drawl they’re all used to hearing. There'd been a bevy of surprised questions the first time the boy had spoken.

(Except for Jester who doesn't seem to notice the difference at all.)

"Ja," Caleb agrees and eyes some of the bottles being jostled with faint concern. He's fairly sure Yeza wouldn't set anything too dangerous so close to the ground what with raising a child all on his own. "But then you would be alone when Jester comes back."

Fjord takes his wisdom in with ill grace. His nose scrunching up in a way that is awkwardly adorable. In the right frame of mind he would know Jester wouldn't give up without being given something more interesting to do but his memory is lacking at the moment.

"Trust me, it's better to be in a group if you wish to avoid her pranks," Caleb chuckles as he shuts his book and stands up. Slowly, because Caduceus remarked earlier to the group at the boy's tendency to flatten himself against a wall when people made sudden movements around him. "We can make it work."

Caleb holds a hand out and waits as he's considered by suspicious eyes, but only for a moment. Fjord’s hand is small and soft in his own. Nothing like what Caleb is used to from the sailor's grip. Bright yellow eyes look up at him trustingly as he leads the way to the kitchen. 

"Could you show me some magic again?" Fjord asks with excitement that matches very well with his adult self. 

"Hm," Caleb pretends to consider before giving a nod. "I think i can manage one or two."

Caleb should be neck deep in research. Looking for a way to restore his friend to his true self, but it's hard to castigate himself with the chorus of 'yeses' he gets from the boy.

**Author's Note:**

> I really need to get some prompts to work on. Get me back in the habit of writing. I feel really rusty, but I seriously miss writing.


End file.
